Malevolent Thoughts – Magic – White Scallop – Phowa Dream 06 -02-2026

February 6, 2026February 6, 2026 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

I had hoped that we were past this, past this kind of projection at me. Here is last night’s dream on a night which had an otherwise long sleep.

The dream opens in a seemingly underground labyrinth, a warren of tunnels, which I know to be the mind of another or others plural. The walls are curved and of a grey muddy hue and texture. Hanging pendant from the ceilings of these tunnels are amulets shaped like a pain au raisin, coiled. They are palm-hand sized. They are British English of provenance. I know they are encapsulated thought forms and parcelled emotions. They are negative and malevolent towards me. They have variously resentment, jealousy and ill will. They are anger and even hate filled projections at me. In some cases they have festered long. They are by way of black magic spells directed at me either wittingly or otherwise. The persons generating these malevolence are not fully aware of their voodoo like essence. Nor do they understand that these emanations against a witch with well-practiced charms of reflective protection is for them, the emanator, a very unwise thing. Deep in the resentful caverns of their minds they are harbouring and feeding this negativity which is bad for them. They are nurturing it and it feeds upon them. It is eating them alive. To project against a witch is foolhardy.

In the dream I sigh.

The scene changes to a small cove on the coast with crystal clear waters. It too seems English. I am in the water swimming at the behest of an “archaeologist”. I am free diving to the bottom and searching the sand. I find a large pristine white scallop shell. Larger than normal, shiner than normal and whiter than normal. It is somehow special even magical white. I go to shore and show it to the archaeologist. He is excited. He asks me to find a living bed of scallops as proof. I know that the archaeology refers to the/my past. I dive and swim towards where a fresh water stream inlets into the sea. There on a small rocky outcrop are a bed of scallops. I take a picture with my underwater camera and with the knife from my ankle scabbard ease a living pair of scallops off. I return to the shore. I show the archaeologist who is very happy. We go into the village and enter a small cottage with a “Tudor” blue wooden frame. We go into the kitchen and start to wash the scallops in the sink. The couple who are the cottage owners return and let themselves in with a key. At first they are surprised to see us in their house, their kitchen. The archaeologist apologises and explains. They are happy and the wife helps him wash the scallops in the sink.

The scene fades and I am left with a very strong visual image of someone known to me whom I have not spoken with for two decades. He is older than me and of a prior “generation”. I know that he nears death and this is by way of a checking in. If and when things progress I will see him during the transition and soon afterwards. The same holds true for a female also of his generation. As a part of the Phowa practice I will encounter them on planes non mundane in the in between. I am ready whereas they are not. I am at home there.

The dreaming sequence ends…

On waking I know that there is nothing you can do if someone harbours envy, bitterness and jealousy towards you. If you mention it, it does not go away. It only entrenches and gets worse.

Depth and Competence – Deep Magic

December 12, 2025December 12, 2025 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

If we are always well within our depth we do not find the extent and limit of our latent skills or abilities. These when tested might become new competences. If we fail to acknowledge when we are out of our depth we may act in a hasty, arrogant and foolhardy manner. Thereby squandering things we might learn while being out of our depth. We may have hidden predilections and capabilities which need prompting in order to surface. Sometimes crisis can be a good teacher. Sometimes not…

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We may think we know ourselves yet be kidding ourselves. Our public practiced persona or façade might be a crock of shit. We may hide a great deal. We could be suited for unusual endeavour like working for MI6. Our true self and predilections may only rarely see the light of day. We may have missed our vocation as a hunter of changeling assassins.

I am crystal clear. Provided that the dreaming in this blog can be discounted as “just dreams” there is no wider implication. Things like the deep magic cannot and do not exist under this proviso.

I used to work with people who would probably profess in public that magic etc. is made up, unproven and non-scientific. They most certainly would not go on the public record saying that they believed in the deep magic. It might be bad for career and reputation.

What they might say after a few wines among friends and family may differ slightly. And they may cack their pants due to the subjective and supernatural. They may well be fearful of evil and demons, ghosts and vampires. The acid test would be to enter a haunted house or patrol the dark unlit streets way past midnight. Many talk a good game but may be less certain than the vehemence of what they profess might suggest.

Many opinions opined in the comforting light of day lack certainty in the foggy wee small hours, alone in the relative silence.

If for example you are professional scientist it is unlikely that your competence extends into the occult, to witchcraft or voodoo. The temptation to offer an opinion thereupon may exceed your levels of competence and experience therein. New agers may offer adamant opinions on the efficacy and safety of vaccines.

It is very common for people to opine beyond competence. The spell of liking own sound of voice projected knowingly from the soapbox to a surrounding court of admirers is a hard one to unbind. It has many in its thrall. It is an act many partake of.

The literature and media on the subject of magic often uses the dramatic technique of plunging a protagonist out of their depth into areas of magic they do not know, or the dark arts. There is a dramatic warning not to dabble. Very often the protagonist has an arrogance and self-belief which is unwarranted and lets loose a whole chain of consequence. There are to magic layers. Magic is rarely fond of arrogant presumption. Comeuppance can be had.

As a rule of thumb the “civilised” modern Westerner is unlikely to deeply believe in magic though yet find the medium entertaining on Netflix. Their certainty may not be as warranted as they imagine. Caught in the hectic maelstrom of modern living they may miss evidence of the ancient arts. Were they then to bull in a china shop blunder in, the consequences might be untoward.

Boris gave the go ahead for a horse race meeting just as the tides of Covid infection broke upon our shores. Despite the evidence in Europe he did not want to see something which threatened “fun” and his way of life. He wanted to be popular and not a meany.

We can say that many of us prefer to see only that which we prefer to see. We may be “blind” elsewhere. We may refuse to assimilate things which we do not wish to.

In the past, centuries ago, the grey area between intelligence gathering and magic was much greyer. People were more prone to believe in things which went bump in the night. A Novichok poisoning might be a voodoo spell. I doubt modern technology has rendered superstition entirely extinct. Though nobody at GCHQ draws the entrails of a goat these days, few at the NSA consult the local shaman or scry in a mirror. Who knows what Vlad does in the Kremlin.

I suspect that in general many feign competence when there is little, they may wing it when out of their depth. The “fake it till you make it” mantram is often chanted.

Provided that there is no such thing as deep magic it is entirely safe to carry on as if such a thing does not exist. Nobody needs to factor it in….

Volcano Islands – DNA – Nirmāṇakāya- Warrior Girl Dream 23-08-2025

August 23, 2025August 23, 2025 ~ quantumdreamer ~ Leave a comment

Here are last night’s dreaming sequence. It is a little “bitty” and is in three parts.

The dream starts on a mediterranean-like island. I am walking along a trail with the wife. We are carrying rucksacks; it is sunny but not hot. We are on a cliff side path far below is an azure-blue sea. Ahead of us is a port town from which we aim to take a ferry to our next destination. In the middle distance we can see a rocky island with fertile splashes of green farming land. It is less cliffy but dominated by a peak which I know is a supposed extinct volcano. We start to have a drone’s eye view over the island. Small volcanic vents open up around the island venting first smoke and then the occasional pyrotechnic of red hot lava. The central volcano starts to smoke and vent too. We can hear the rumble of pre-eruption. It is pretty clear that the island is unsafe and that we will have to alter our plans. If the volcano blows the island will cease. We cannot go to that island yet.

I say that we need to find a hotel for the night. We walk into town as night falls and the nightlife starts up. There are bars and clubs. It is Greek. We find a large hotel on a central plaza. The wife thinks it too expensive but I know they like to fill all the rooms. I go to reception where the hotel manager / owner is. He is an oily man with yet black hair. I ask him for a room it is £50 per night. This he says is because the pool is out of order. I accept and ask what time breakfast is. The hotel is in need of TLC.

The dream fades.

I am now in a medical centre come hospital on another island which feels like Jersey but may not be it. I am in a waiting room with many others. My name is called and I am taken into a consulting room by a woman of similar age to me in a dark navy-blue nurse practitioner uniform. She does blood pressure measurements and listens to my chest. I gesture to her where I have had my chest hair shaved for a recent ECG. For some reason we both find this funny. She takes down some historical details. Then she gets an envelop out of her desk drawer. She proceeds to take a lock of my hair which is much longer than it is this morning. She places this in the envelope. She then proceeds to trim all my finger nails with scissors. Collecting the nails and placing them too in the envelope. I say that I hope she is not going to use these for voodoo or witchcraft on me because everyone knows that these are key ingredients. She says no, the samples are for DNA tests, the government wants to test my DNA to check if I am normal or not. I say to her that I have had a normal birth and not a different Nirmāṇakāya manifestation vehicle. It was not thought created. I came out of a womb. The DNA results should come back as entirely human.

Outside the hospital I go down a hill to where the ambulance entrance is. I see the nurse posting the envelope into a bright red old-school UK mail box. I wave at her, she waves back.

The dream fades.

I am now in a large metropolitan building which has been subdivided into a number of flats. The building has a common room area with a watercooler and seating. I am standing there when a tall man comes in. He is holding is mouth. He says that he has broken a tooth. I know he is Hungarian because we have been out for a few beers. I say that I can drive him to a dentist and explain how things work in England. I ask him to show me his EU health card. He does. I say show this at the dental clinic and they will reduce the amount you have to pay. We are joined by a young woman who has recently moved into the block. She is around mid-twenties and has jet black pig-tailed hair and is heavily made up. I know that she considers herself trendy.

I take the Hungarian to the dentist in my car and drop him off in reception I give him the number of my mobile ‘phone in case there is difficulty. Neither of us foresees any. He will have to wait for hours. I go back to the block of flats where I am some kind of custodian.

The young woman is still there in the communal rooms. She wants to go into town and asks me to accompany her. There is a mild sexual frisson from her part towards me which is completely unexpected by me. She takes my arm in hers and we walk out into the night. I am quasi-paternal.

It is very urban and under the yellow street lights she starts to tell me how she is trying to change. She has a lot of piercings and several large tattoos. She is of mixed race a real melting pot of nationalities but speaks pukka English, posh. She says that she is a warrior girl, that she is striving to be a warrior girl. In a London accent I ask if she means warrior gall or warrior gell, innit. This makes her laugh. My accent is unexpected.

I say to her that being a warrior is harder than she might imagine and that whatever her preconceptions are, they are wrong. I say to her that is a good thing to aspire to be a “warrior gall”. This makes her happy and she tries to skip. I cannot. I look at her and we both laugh.

The dream fades.